


Taken by the Storm

by Direbane



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sex, Northrend, Orcs, Original Character(s), Shaman - Freeform, Warrior - Freeform, Warsong Hold, conflicted feelings, inner turmoil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29532945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Direbane/pseuds/Direbane
Summary: After exchanging a few heated words with Zilde over something they disagreed about,  the hot-blooded Tarnakh lost his temper and made small scene in front of their mercenary group. Thankfully, he was able to explain it to Zilde later, in private, running into far more understanding than he expected. Even after a passionate encounter, however, he was still unable to let go of the uneasy feeling that was looming over him, as he thought about all the recent changes in his life.
Kudos: 1





	Taken by the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Zilde Coldsong is not my OC, but I was given permission by her creator to use her in this story

Perhaps cunning Aiyvah was right and they really needed to get the tension out of their system through some intense lovemaking. Tarnakh looked at Zilde, letting out a deep sigh. She was sound asleep, snuggled close to him as usual, her head resting on his very scratched chest while he had his arm wrapped around her. He could stay up all night just absorbing her with his gaze, getting lost in every curve of her body, listening to her slow, even breathing, and, of course, getting “drunk” on her scent. As he slowly reached for her with his other hand, feeling her warm skin under his fingers while tracing the curves beneath it, from her face, down to her slightly bitten neck, sneakily past her breast to finally rest it on her hip, he got painfully aware of just how much she had actually changed his life. And he didn’t like it. In fact, it’s what’s been keeping him awake tonight, despite their conversation earlier, as well as their “make-up” encounter. Inhaling deeply, he tried to get these intrusive thoughts out of his head, but to no avail.

Although he never apologized for it, Tarnakh did feel quite bad for his outburst earlier that night, especially since he did it with so many people present. He didn’t care for what they thought, but he cared all about what Zilde may be thinking of it. Thankfully, the ever so patient and understanding Zilde knew, even before he did, that he must have had a good reason for it. And indeed, he had one. As he had told her himself shortly after, he didn’t like not being in control. And with her, he never knew when things would get just that - completely out of control. She was far too volatile, much like the elements she was pleading with. While it did add a certain symbolic, almost poetic ring to it, it did nothing to ease his growing concern. At the same time, he was almost humbled by the fact that she understood him so well, especially since he was a man of very few words. But every word he did manage to utter, was never wasted or misinterpreted with her. 

Tarnakh hated himself for feeling this way since it felt like that he had absolutely no reason to. He couldn’t imagine being happier than he was right now as his life had taken a sudden turn for the better, after decades of loneliness and silent anguish. And with a woman like Zilde, no less. Yet… the changes that followed came with a price - the one that he needed to be ready to pay in full if he intended to make things work with her. Naturally, that went without saying and wasn’t even being questioned. He had not only sworn an oath to take care of her to the best of his ability but he also truly wanted to. The problem lied in the “how”. The sudden loss of control over his own life was something he needed to find a way to accept. He was a man of habit, rigorous routine, and careful planning and now it was all gone with a gust of wind, while he was somehow supposed to make his peace with it. Of course, things like that took time and no one expected him to change overnight. After all, Orgrimmar wasn’t built in a day. What he was afraid of, however, was, if such a change had any chance of happening at all. What if he was too deeply rooted in his ways? If he stubbornly clung onto them, too proud to let up even if it meant causing a potentially irreparable tear on his newfound relationship? What if one simply couldn’t take the Warsong out of him? Not even someone as understanding and caring as gentle, nurturing Zilde had a neverending limit to their patience.

Getting crushed by the weight of his own thoughts, he needed to get out and get some air. Slowly moving Zilde so he can pull his arm from underneath her, he snuck out of the warm bed of furs, as well as Zilde’s embrace, trying to find his clothes. This wasn’t an easy task since they were sent flying all over the tent not long ago. By a sheer stroke of luck, he somehow managed to run into his pants without making too much noise, so he grabbed them, as well as the first next thing that remotely resembled a shirt, making his way out of the tent as he snatched his boots that were placed near the entrance. He tried to get dressed as quickly as possible before the unforgiving Northrend air chilled him to the bone, letting out several grunts and curses as the sharp, frozen soil bit at his bare feet while he was trying to put on his boots. Heading towards Dusksong, he woke the direwolf up nudging her with his foot, calling to her softly. She made it a habit to snuggle closely to Zilde’s wolf, Windfury, so both wolves raised their heads, looking at him rather disgruntled for being woken up so cruelly. He gave them both a pat, before grabbing Dusksong’s reins. “Come now, girl, we’re going for a short ride.” He guided her slightly away from the tent before hopping on. Painfully aware of how underdressed for the occasion he was, he let out a grunt as the sharp cold air was already chilling his limbs, but he didn’t care much at this point - just needed to get away awhile. 

Without any plan or a goal, the irony of it not escaping him entirely, Tarnakh headed in a random direction, allowing Dusksong to guide him more than he guided her. Before he knew it, he was gazing upon the towering, menacing presence of the Warsong Hold before him. As he approached the main entrance, he was, unsurprisingly, halted by a guard who wanted him to state his business. 

“Who goes there?!”

“Just another soldier, reminiscing his time at the Hold, many years ago.”

“Reminiscing? At this hour?”

“This hour is as good as any.”

“Not on my watch. State your business or be on your way.”

Tarnakh jumped off Dusksong’s back, approaching the man who visibly flinched as Tarnakh got closer, possibly not expecting him to be as tall. Raising his hands in a peaceful gesture, trying to show him that he’s unarmed and friendly, he addressed him.

“My name is Tarnakh Rageaxe, something that hopefully at least one person here will be able to confirm, provided that they are still alive. I was part of the Offensive during the reign of the Scourge.” The man nodded at him slowly. “Krom Bonebreaker. You may not remember me, but you should remember my brother, Krall. You were stationed together at Bor’gorok for a while. He always spoke of you with respect.”

Tarnakh smiled, relieved to have so easily found at least someone who somewhat remembered him. “Blood and thunder, brother.” They greeted one another by patting each other on the shoulder before Krom looked over him, noticing how poorly dressed Tarnakh was.

“By Saurfang’s beard, you must be freezing your balls off!” 

“You clearly never knew Varok Saurfang, or you would know that the man didn’t have a beard to speak of.” Tarnakh grinned at Krom slyly, playfully mocking his ignorance.

“And you won’t have any balls to speak of if you don’t drag your frozen behind inside right away. I’ll make sure that you get at least a cloak and some hot ale. Come.” With a firm move of his hand, Krom ushered Tarnakh inside, letting other guards know that they have a friendly visitor and asking one of them to take Dusksong to the stables.

“How is Krall, that bitter old mongrel?” Looking around, as memories of the place began swarming him, Tarnakh asked about his old comrade, while Krom was guiding him to the mess hall. “Even more bitter, older, and forever a mongrel.” Both men laughed before Krom told Tarnakh to seat himself down while he got some hot ale and warmer clothes for him. Shortly after, he returned with both, just as promised. Placing down two generously filled tankards of steaming hot ale, he also threw a warm fur cloak over the table for Tarnakh to catch. Wrapping it around his shoulders, he already felt better, especially after taking a few careful sips of the blissfully warm ale. As he let out a content sigh of relief, forgetting his problems for at least a brief moment, he focused his gaze on Krom. The man looked back at him, with a somewhat firm, serious stare. 

“Now, tell me… what ails you?”

Tarnakh instantly reverted to his foul, grim mood, lowering his gaze down onto his hands that were wrapped around the warm tankard. He grunted lowly but gave no response. 

“It’s a woman. Must be.” Krom insisted, his mouth widening into a knowing grin as Tarnakh lifted his head to look at him with a perked brow.

“How did I know? Don’t be coy, it’s painfully obvious. A man rides into the Hold of all places, in the middle of the night, wearing nothing but a thin shirt and a pair of pants, unarmed. Running from enemies? A man of your stature and reputation? Unlikely. You’d fight them, tooth and fist, not run for help. So the only other possible explanation is the one that I just gave you. You’re either looking for a woman or running from one. The only thing a warrior could think himself running from.” 

Krom simply stared at Tarnakh after this little monologue, as if testing to see how long it would take for him to budge. Taking a few gulps of ale, Tarnakh remained silent, yet not denying anything that Krom had said. Krom simply nodded, in a way that let Tarnakh know that he won’t pursue the matter, but is willing to lend an ear should he change his mind. With that, he started pushing himself up to leave him to his brooding but was delayed as Tarnakh finally decided to speak.

“I’ve been a soldier for most of my life. I’ve grown accustomed to following orders, adhering to rules, having routines. It was simple. Effective. Controlled. Something I continued practicing even after I stopped serving. Except I was my own master, in control of my life.” He paused, taking a few more sips of his ale. 

“But then she came. Like a storm. Changed everything. Changed… me. And, brother… I don’t like it, at all. I don’t like it, because-...”

“Because you’re afraid you’ll become less of a man if you let a woman in?” Krom finished Tarnakh’s sentence for him, helping himself to some ale as well. “I can tell you’re new to this. I’ve had this conversation before.” He raised his hand, pointing towards the men in the mess hall. “With almost every one of them. And the very first conversation I had, was my own. I spoke to Krall about concerns that were weighing on my mind, just before I got married.” He looked back at Tarnakh with a smirk. 

“Tell you what. I’ve been married for 26 years now. Did my dear wife, may the ancestors watch over her, change me? You can bet on Thrall’s left tit that she did. Did I become less of a man for it? Perhaps. At least at times, when I had to bow to her will. But, overall? You tell me. I’m still serving at the Hold, fighting the enemies on the front lines whenever needed.” With that Krom raised his tankard for a toast.

“To women. May the ancestors help us, but damn it all to hell and back, life wouldn’t be worth living without them.” Tarnakh raised his tankard as well, with a sigh. “To women.”

“Now… give your woman a benefit of the doubt as well, they’re not out only to get us by the balls. They will listen if we talk. Easier said than done, I know. We’re orcs. Soldiers, at that. But then let her do the talking and you do the listening if that makes it easier for you. She will tell you even more than asked, you just need to know how to listen. Give it some time, the change will come naturally. Let it happen. You won’t regret it if she’s the one.”

Having said that, Krom finally got up, ready to get back to his post. He nodded at Tarnakh, lingering for a brief moment, in case Tarnakh had something to add.

“And if she’s stubborn, reckless, and defiant?” 

“Then you got yourself a real treat. But there are other ways of traversing a wall - such as going around it, instead of straight through it, with your head. And I have a feeling you’re one of those. Now, go to her, before she realizes what a lumbering mongrel you are and leaves your sorry behind. Anything else, before I go?”

“One more thing. Do you happen to have a farseer in your ranks?”

\---

Taking a deep breath before exhaling slowly, Tarnakh carefully went inside, hoping she wouldn’t wake up. Thankfully, she was still very much asleep and Tarnakh’s heart skipped a few beats as he laid his gaze upon her. _How could anyone be so… mesmerizing?_ Taking his shirt off and getting under the covers, he shuffled closer to her, wrapping his arm around her and leaning in for a soft nuzzle. As she squirmed, sleepily rolling over, instinctively getting closer for comfort and safety, he knew. Krom was right. He was a fool. And she was the one. 


End file.
